


Birds

by Gorillazgal86



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale is okay on his own, Coping Mechanisms, Loneliness, M/M, Pining, Pre-Armageddon, angel and a demon getting drunk, ineffable husbands, until he's reminded what he's missing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorillazgal86/pseuds/Gorillazgal86
Summary: It was easiest when time and circumstance had put considerable distance between himself and Crowley.  The angel would develop a routine and as years turned to decades and decades to centuries, the serpent-shaped hole in his life would grow smaller and easier to plaster over.  It was when the demon stormed into his existence unexpectedly, ripping open the wound that hadn’t quite stitched together, that the illusion of satisfaction at Crowley’s absence slipped rapidly away.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	Birds

**_Soho - 1956_ **

Most of the time, Aziraphale could ignore and suppress the niggling craving for camaraderie, companionship and late night wine-soaked conversations.He had enough to keep himself distracted after-all. Heaven kept him plenty occupied with winning souls and his bookshop easily filled the rest of the time.Collecting, cataloguing and cajoling would-be customers away from his books was a full-time job unto itself, never mind his celestial assignments. 

But sometimes, the loneliness threatened to swallow him whole.The room behind the bookshop would fall silent, despite the gramophone playing a forgettable concerto and the bustle of the street below.The emptiness would overwhelm him, the anxious knot growing inside his stomach, his feet unable to still themselves.He paced a familiar path across the space, stand at the hearth and watch the flames dance, before turning to put the kettle on the stove, only to stand at the window and stare at nothing in particular, a cooling cup of tea in his hand, before repeating the circuit.

Aziraphale preferred the nights where he was lost in a book, so consumed in a fantasy world that the world around him was dimmed from sight. 

It was easiest when time and circumstance had put considerable distance between himself and Crowley.The angel would develop a routine and as years turned to decades and decades to centuries, the serpent-shaped hole in his life would grow smaller and easier to plaster over.It was when the demon stormed into his existence unexpectedly, ripping open the wound that hadn’t quite stitched together, that the illusion of satisfaction at Crowley’s absence slipped rapidly away.  
  
Aziraphale could smell the smoky sulphur of the demon, lingering in the air, intermingled with musty books and stale wine.

Aziraphale was completing his ledger the night before when the door to the shop opened despite being locked, the tell-tale glimmer of a miracle disturbing the air.Quite without any announcement or invitation,Crowley strode through the door, snapping it closed behind him, all snake-hipped swagger, a dusty bottle of wine cradled under his arm, beaming his ridiculous toothy smile at Aziraphale.

“Hey Angel, long time no see!I’m passing through London and thought I’d call in,”he sauntered to Aziraphale’s desk, placing the wine offering in front of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale tried to maintain his calm composure, despite having been startled and the unexpected surprise of seeing Crowley.Hell had kept Crowley on the road for the best part a decade, the devastation of the second World War had left a world ripe for temptation and Hell had been keen to capitalise on the opportunities.Following the angel’s own uncomfortable realisation on the exact nature of his feelings for Crowley while standing in the rubble of a bombed church during the Blitz, Aziraphale had been grateful for the chance to bury such foolish notions of love and endearment.

All of his hard work, however, was torn asunder the moment Crowley set the wine in front of him. 

Aziraphale steeled himself, determined to not allow the bubbling giddiness at the sight of Crowley to overwhelm him.But he tried as he might, he couldn’t stop the pleased smile that began to tug at his lips.

“You can’t just come in here, unannounced like that!You have no idea who else could have been in here, imagine Gabriel was paying me a visit,”Aziraphale said sternly, though there was no heat in it.He couldn’t quite muster up enough aggravation to be truly cross.

“Oh, come on Aziraphale, this time of night?I saw you in the window, working away, I would have called, but then I wouldn’t have got to see you jump,”he smirked, finding his usual spot on the battered settee, his long limbs draping luxuriously across it.

“Still, I could have been busy,”Aziraphale said haughtily, inadvertently revealing that he was in fact, not busy at all.

Crowley grinned and with a wave of his hand, two wine glasses materialised in one hand, a corkscrew in another.  
  
“I’ve never once known you to be too busy for a glass of wine.C’mon, pull up a seat and relax, let’s catch up.” 

Crowley worked on opening the wine as Aziraphale set the small round spectacles on his desk and walked around to settle into the armchair next to Crowley, his heart thumping in his chest, the effervescent glee he felt when Crowley was in the bookshop with him bubbling through him and no amount of frowning and glaring at the disturbance could stop it.  
  
“Last I checked, I don’t need an invitation to do anything in my own bookshop.Exactly what I need to darken my evening, tales of you interrupting the progress of rebuilding Europe,”Aziraphale snarked, but took the glass Crowley held out to him gratefully. 

Aziraphale could delude himself that he was only being polite to an old acquaintance if he put up enough an argument about it, that the electric excitement he felt was just a result of having been startled out of his work and nothing to do with the delight and relief at seeing Crowley well and in good spirits.He knew rightly it was a lie he told himself, but it was enough for the all important plausible deniability.

“Oh relax, you’re always such a fuss.And anyway, you know humans, they’re doing quite fine making a mess of things themselves as usual, I just write the reports.The new borders have really upset the balance of things, I couldn’t think of this stuff even if I wanted to,”Crowley laughed and took a deep drink of the wine, seeming to relish the warm burn down his throat and the tannic dryness that followed. 

“So are you in London for long?”Aziraphale said carefully, hopefully, sipping his own wine. Crowley had excellent taste, he’d never known the serpent to pick a poor vintage.

Crowley’s face darkened and he frowned.“Only tonight, I’m afraid.The Irish border is simmering again, Hell want me to go keep an eye on things.It’s not stopped since 1945, Angel, and it’s all the humans, I swear.The major casualties have slowed down, sure, we’re not bombing city’s into oblivion, but if it’s not the Soviets and the Americans threatening nuclear holocaust, then it’s these smaller nations are getting notions,”he sighed, an unmissable melancholy in his voice.

It had never been Crowley’s raison d’être to cause death and destruction and indeed, Aziraphale was confident he found the whole business incredibly distasteful.Hell saw it differently, however, and took opportunities like this to add to their own book of souls.Aziraphale softened, the weariness clear on Crowley’s face.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re not the root of all this and I’m sure you didn’t pop in to go over all you’ve seen in graphic detail.So what brings you in anyway?”Aziraphale asked, glad to see Crowley relax and reach for the wine bottle to top them both off.

“Just needed a break really, was passing through and hadn’t seen you in a while,”Crowley said softly, staring into his wine glass. 

Aziraphale’s blood thrummed past his ears.They hadn’t spoken since the Blitz and the rescued books.They’d had a night like this.Crowley had left him back to the shop, wine was opened and every topic except what had just happened, the selfless act Crowley had performed to not only save the books, but Aziraphale as well, dissected through the night. 

Aziraphale swallowed at Crowley’s admission, it sounded a lot like _I’ve missed you . . . I wanted to see you,_ but the angel refused to entertain the notion.Further, Crowley was away again tomorrow, leaving in his wake the darkness that always settled over Aziraphale in Crowley’s absence.

“It must be very difficult for you, I hope things calm down for you soon,”Aziraphale offered, though he could do little to help.The Arrangement was useful for small temptations and blessings, but work that was closely monitored by head office, it was too risky and outside of Aziraphale’s skill set to assist.

Crowley just shrugged and instead changed the subject to the growing ubiquity of televisions and other clever technology humans were creating. 

“They’re building space ships, Angel, can you believe it?They want to go to the moon!"

Aziraphale relaxed, letting the warmth of the wine seep through him, enjoying Crowley’s animated storytelling and allowed himself to forget that this was a one evening affair.More bottles materialised and the hours passed more easily and swiftly than Aziraphale had felt in a long time.

He watched Crowley, his arms flailing, his amber eyes growing brightly with excitement as he reiterated the monumental occasion of humans being very close to achieving space travel and he felt a heat that had nothing to do with the wine.This was always when they’d been at their best, together and hidden from the oppressive gaze of their respective head offices and humanity, tucked away and more drunk than was appropriate.Aziraphale felt recharged by Crowley’s proximity, like he’d been plugged into a socket and an energy he didn’t know he was lacking coursing though him.  
  
Aziraphale found his eyes fixated on Crowley’s lips,red with wine as he continued to babble on.Crowley then stood up and to punctuate a point, placed both hands on Aziraphale’s arm chair and leaned in, suddenly crossing the invisible line they usually had drawn between them.

“The stars angel, they’re going to the stars, they’re going to know more about it than we do . . . and we hung the stars,”Crowley breathed, his breath thick with alcohol, warm against Aziraphale’s face, a delighted sparkle twinkling in his eyes. 

Aziraphale’s breath stopped, the only sound he could hear was his heart thumping hard against his chest and the blood thundering through his ears.His skin prickled with goosebumps.Crowley was right there, close enough to touch.As if on its own volition, Aziraphale’s hand slid up and rested on Crowley’s cheek, cradling it gently, like a thing that might break.He was horrified at the boldness of his own limbs, too much wine directing his movements, but unable and unwilling to stop himself.

“You hung the stars, Crowley.Not me,”he whispered.

Crowley paused, considering this, a soft smile playing across his face.He tilted his head to the side, regarding Aziraphale with an expression that was too tender and too vulnerable.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,”Crowley said, the warmth of his breath dancing across Aziraphale’s lips. 

He was closer again somehow, though Aziraphale hadn’t noticed him moving and Aziraphale’s skin tingled with the proximity of him.The air hung heavy between them, a whisper separating their lips, their eyes fixed together, a silent game of truth or dare playing out between them.And Aziraphale wanted to close that narrow bit of space, to seal his lips across Crowley’s and taste the earthiness of the wine on his tongue, to answer a question that had lingered in his mind for far too long. 

But then Crowley’s eyes flicked to the small window behind Aziraphale, a stream of sunlight now beaming through and his face crumbled.He stood up, straightening in an instant, a wall slamming down between them.Aziraphale gasped at the suddenness of it, glanced over his own shoulder to confirm the intrusion of the sun, glowing amber and red through the window as it crawled over the horizon.

Crowley shook himself, pulling the alcohol from his system, instantly sober and more serious. 

“I’ve got to get going,”he said flatly and stepped back. 

Aziraphale followed suit, sobering himself and standing a step behind Crowley, who collected his coat and scarf, carelessly discarded hours ago. 

“Yes, of course.It was good of you to visit,”Aziraphale said, his voice guarded as he tried to swallow the rush of pain as Crowley made his way to the door.

“I’ll see you around,” Crowley said, his hand on the door knob, turning it and then disappearing without another word into the morning light. 

Aziraphale stood there a long while, staring at the door, before his feet carried him to the fireplace and then the kettle and then the window. The familiar course to reclaim his routine, the process of closing the Crowley-shaped hole until it he was fortunate enough to have it reopened.

_You and I – were made for gardens, but_

_You and I – were destined to fall_

_You and I – may end where we started, but_

_You and I – were never too small_

Birds - Maggie Koerner


End file.
